


into your arms

by frozenbaozi



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Possible Character Death, i dont know what to tag this without spoiling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenbaozi/pseuds/frozenbaozi
Summary: Two strangers, a one night stand, a city in ruins, and a zombie ambush.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Kudos: 28





	into your arms

**Author's Note:**

> hi there!  
> i just couldn't get post apocalypse yuwin out of my head, and...this is the result of that.
> 
> unbetaed, any mistakes are on me so if you see any, please tell me so i can fix them!
> 
> #

Sicheng is already out of the blanket when Yuta wakes up, body sore from laying on the freezing cement of the floor. When Yuta looks up he finds him standing in front of the window, and the light from the morning sun almost makes it look like he’s wearing a halo. He’s beautiful, and he’s looking out upon the city below them like he owns it all.

Yesterday he had been the same, but instead of the city he had owned Yuta, down to the very last atom of him. He closes his eyes and remembers how, just when he had run out of escape routes, just when the horde of undead fuckers had blocked every chance of running away, Sicheng had saved him. A stranger with a bat covered in sharp nails like he was in a damn movie. A show of humanity that Yuta hadn’t seen in a very long time. Yuta owed him his life, but all Sicheng had asked for was to keep him company for the night. So he had.

His eyes lock on the white stains on the blanket. It’s all crumbled up by his feet, the rough material scratching at his skin, and if he breathes in real deep the room still smells faintly of sex. They had both needed it, but a room with no intact window on the fifth floor had arguably not been the best pick for the occasion. Sicheng had told him he’d been staying there for a few days waiting for the horde to emerge from wherever their hiding spot had been, and in the heat of the moment it really had not seemed that bad.

Now, though, lying here with the wind blowing steadily from the busted window and the air in the room just on the wrong side of crisp, he kind of regrets not taking the time to find a better place. Maybe they can do that, he thinks to himself.

The blanket rustles when he sits up, and Sicheng turns to look at him, those cold eyes piercing his skin and making him freeze. “I need to leave.” Oh. He had whispered, but the words are still so audible in the silence.

“Good morning to you, too. Where to?”

“Dunno. I need more supplies. Somewhere that still has working heaters.”

“Right. Yeah. Winter might be tough this year, “ Yuta thinks aloud, plopping back onto the floor to stretch his stiff limbs back to life. Sicheng hums confirmatively and doesn’t say anything else. What a tough shell. Maybe Yuta will just stalk him until he finds someplace nice, and then sneak his way inside and make him share. Hmm. He curls back up, warmth and a real bed on his mind, Sicheng blocking the sun from stinging his eyes from where he still stand at the window, looking out.

He’s almost fallen back asleep when he hears it.

The steps. Feet dragging across the ground, slow but never stopping. The unmistakable sound of breaths coming in ragged like they lost their way halfway down the throat, like they were never supposed to get there at all. Zombies, and they’re close.

He’s on his feet within seconds, hauling a sitting Sicheng to his feet with too much force, still bleary eyed and the world tilting on its axis from standing up too fast with no food in his stomach.

“What-!”

“Be quiet. They’re here,” Yuta hisses, grip tight on Sicheng’s wrist. “Closest exit?”

“Outside and to the left,” says Sicheng, breathing shallowly, “there’s a staircase down to the lobby. Think they came in from the back, so we should be fine.”

The bastards are so much closer than Yuta had thought, and he lets panic take over for a split second before Sicheng wrings his hand out of his grip and grabs his chin, turning his head by force so he can look into Yuta’s eyes. Well, they’re closer, or they’re moving a lot faster than they should be able to. He doesn’t want to think about that last option. 

Sicheng’s eyes are calm and determined, and it becomes clear just how accustomed the man is to the crippling panic, to the fear and the adrenaline rush of running for one’s life. As soon as his hands stop shaking he’s being pushed towards the door. He just needs to open it and run to the left, just like Sicheng had said, he just needs to-

But before he gets a grip on the handle it’s being pushed down from outside. All the blood drains from his face in one go, and he feels light-headed once again. Ah. So it ends here, he thinks, and then he doesn’t have time for anymore thinking because the door swings open with a nasty creak, and then he’s eye to eye with one of them.

“Fuck, FUCK! Yuta, go, get your ass out of here, come on!” Sicheng is screaming, clawing at the back of his shirt to get him to move.

His mind catches up to him then and in three steps they’re both at the window, looking out past the jagged edge of the glass and down on the single line of bricks protruding from the outer wall of the building. He looks back at the zombies scrambling to get past each other at the door, and takes a deep breath. This is the only way out.

In a moment of quick thinking he grabs the blanket from off the floor, bundling it up and fitting it over the glass, then ushering Sicheng in front of him to help him get over.

It’s a tight fit outside and only luck saves him from slipping off the groove. Yuta prays none of them are going to cut themselves on the window. The monsters would smell the blood in a second. 

With wind blowing around him and pushing hair into his eyes and his mouth, Sicheng balances on the outside of a building five stories above the deserted streets. Yuta sees his fingers go white around the knuckles with the effort it must take to hold himself up, and grabs the hand he can reach for good measure, and then he follows the other man through the window, altitude be damned.

And he’s so close to making it, really, he’s nearly all the way out, when a bony hand grips tightly around the rim of his trousers. He tries wiggling himself loose, tries kicking and squirming but none of it proves to be of any use, and it seems the more he resists, the more hands land on his body.

“Go.” Yuta finds Sicheng’s eyes with his own, tries to make him understand the severity of their situation. Sicheng’s pupils are blown up with fear, with adrenaline, and he doesn’t react as fast as Yuta would have liked him to, so he shakes him with the hand he still has on Sicheng’s wrist.

If this is going to be his last day, if this is going to be his last moment, then he wants to spend it doing something selfless. He smiles to himself, almost gets embarrassed from the cheesiness of it all. Dying because he wants to save someone he met less than a day ago is- well, if he has to go then he will go like this.

There is a particularly hard tug at his leg just then, which makes him lose his balance, and he only just manages to let go of the hand he had been clutching tight. Sicheng is yelling something but his attention is dragged elsewhere as he feels an excruciating pain run like fire through his right calf. He gets a hand on the blanket still laying over the busted glass and cuts his wrist attempting to hold on to it. Then he hits the floor and the impact forces all the air out of his lungs. He stuffs the blanket in his mouth, not thinking about the stains or the dust or the blood, and bites down with more strength than he thought he had, and prepares for more pain, more bites.

He can’t look back, is too caught up slapping nails and mouths away from his guts, but he really hopes Sicheng gets away.

The last thing his mind registers before his eyes close is the outline of a man cut into the patch of sun shining through the window.

\---

It’s so cold. Yuta shivers but finds that he can’t move very well, and tries to find out why by shivering some more. Something is holding him down. Someone?

“Don’t move,” somebody says, but they’re so far away and Yuta’s eyes won’t open no matter how much he tries to get them to. He feels so dizzy.

“Mmh…”

“Hey, I said don’t move. You’re gonna- gonna make it worse,” the voice says. Make what worse? Everything is so fuzzy, but through the haze Yuta still hears the crack in the voice, the panic. It pulls him a little closer to the surface, and this time, when he tries to open his eyes once more, he succeeds in parting his lids for a second before they slide closed again.

He think he dozes off because the next time he comes to, it’s dark around him and when he tries moving around, Sicheng doesn’t try to stop him.

Sicheng.

Yuta feels himself flood with fear as he remembers the zombies wobbling towards him on unsteady legs, oozing through the door and trapping them both. How he had stayed back because he had wanted to act like a fucking hero. Sicheng’s profile cut out in the opposite wall. And then- then what? What had happened? He cannot recall a single thing, cannot make out memories between the flashes of pure pain, of teeth biting into him and in turn, him biting harder into the fabric he had stuffed into his mouth.

Something rustles at his side and he looks over, finally registrering Sicheng’s presence. He smiles, and it must look grotesque, because he finds that one side of his face just won’t move to his commands. A cold sense of dread starts to settle right under his ribs. Right where his skin is already covered in something akin to makeshift gauze, he realises with a jolt, the movement sending sharp  
bolts of pain through his body, and feels himself convulse, body curling in on itself. He gasps in pain, and the sound finally wakes the man by his side.

He finds Sicheng’s shoulder with the one arm of his which can still move, and tries to speak though fast, shallow breaths, his voice coming out airy and close to inaudible. He’s lucky they’re so close, here in the dark night, because without the assuring voice demanding he stay awake and the steady arms keeping him grounded he would be beyond panicking now.

He’s being hoisted up onto his lap now, too weakened to hold his own weight to sit up by himself. He can feel the strong heartbeat in Sicheng’s chest as he rests his back against him, letting the other feed him water in small sips. It stands in contrast to his own, a feeble and wavering thing, so small he almost cannot feel it.

They sit like this, the two of them, for a while, neither of them willing to talk or try anything. The thing is, they both know way too well that there is nothing to be done. They both know that Sicheng should be running for his life before Yuta turns, and they both know that the right thing to do would be to kill him now, while he is still himself.

They also both know that Sicheng can’t - won’t - do it.

So they wait. So they let themselves be human just this time.

So, it ends like this:

Yuta, enveloped in Sicheng’s arms, feels pain, and then he doesn’t. It’s a slow, creeping thing - the poison stealing his sense of touch first, then his hearing, and at last his sight. He doesn’t feel it when Sicheng lowers him onto the ground gently, doesn’t hear his quiet goodbyes, doesn’t see him leave amid the first rays of sun poking through the buildings.

So, it ends like this.

And hours later, when Sicheng has put the cement and the silence of the city behind him in favour of a destinationless wander towards the fields stretching into the horizon - hours later, a body without a soul picks itself up from the ground on wobbly legs, leaving the sun behind in favour of dark alleys and abandoned buildings.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> please leave a comment or kudos, its Quality Nutrition to every writer!
> 
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/rebellijoon)
> 
> my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/rebellijooon)


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